"How so?"
"Coming down the drive, I see a wasp-hole in the bank. And I wanted wasp-grub for bait. So I clodded the hole, and pulled the nest out, you see."
"But you didn't want live wasps, Jack."
"Live wasps are very good for dibbing, Mester Frank, if you know how to handle 'em. But, being deep in thought, I put the nest into Squire's porkmankle instead of into my handkerchief. And I forgot the nest when I put the porkmankle down, and give it a shake, through being so deep in thought."
"But what were you thinking about so deeply?"
"Tryin to puzzle it out why the pot-bellied man called me a fool."
And Jack looked as if the question still perplexed him.
"Fool, or no fool, Jack, you have done what none of the rest of us had the wit or pluck to do. But he will kill you, if ever he gets well enough to do it."
"If I live till he kills me, I shall be a very old man," Jack replied, with immense scornfulness.
He had now stowed away his properties, some in his pockets, and some in a sack, which he slung over his shoulder, and stood ready for flight. We shook hands, and he said—